The Skeletons In My Closet
by Dark Glass Marionette
Summary: "And now, I merely await my death." All those memories, locked up inside him... only to resurface through words and feelings of guilt.  *Rated T to M*
1. 1: Cold Blood

**Author's Note: **Right'o, about time I did this: since I am publishing a lot of oneshots in a row, I decided to gather future ones into a collection, so here's my first "full-length" story. I got another one on the works, which will deal with Daniel's return to England and how the Orb business isn't quite finished yet / his childhood and pre-Amnesia period (it all depends), so there will be more of this. For now, I have this little set of snippets. They don't go in chronological order, so we might be on Brennenburg and then just jump back or forward a few years, and so on and so forth. At the same time, these snippets don't go below T-rating, so there will be some around the M; just warning. I will update this as soon as possible: every time a oneshot comes up, I will post it, so keep your eyes open if you're interested in this. Enjoy!^^

**Disclaimer: I do not own Amnesia: The Dark Descent; copyright goes to Frictional Games.**

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**_The Skeletons In My Closet  
_**_-by SnipingWolf_

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I

Cold Blood

It was one of those nights in which I was tasked to have a look around the cell areas and check if everything was in order. I simply detested it, for almost all the prisoners leaped at their doors and banged on them as they either insulted me or begged for my mercy. Those were times when my patience was tried, brought to its limit, but I merely ignored them to deceive myself. At the time, I was oblivious to what I was doing and used to forget the consequences of my actions, but what I never forgot were the chills that ran down my spine every time I ventured further into the cell areas. The prisoners' screams and insults and laments would be burned into my mind from then on, and so they have.

I am forcing myself to remember and recall every detail, since I am sure that I will read this again a few years in the future and remember the kind of man I was. As I write, I can see the prisoners' faces twisted with despair; I can see my own face, a mask of disgust, fear and regret; I can see Sherringford, the miller, who was imprisoned along with his son; I can see _everyone_ I led into Death's arms. The cell areas were dismal places, with pungent and unpleasant odours heavy in the air and the gloomiest of atmospheres. I still don't know how I could walk through those halls without turning back a single time.

That night, I hadn't seen anyone out of place until I reached the top of a stair and heard hushed and hurried voices from a cell to my left. It was another family I had broken: a mother and her young daughter were there. I will always remember her: sweet and infantile, she was a nine year old porcelain doll, all dressed in blue. I neared their cell and, halfway there, I heard the grating sound of something wooden being dragged around, and I burst inside. It was my duty to keep everybody inside their cells, and so I carried it out. After having a better look around, I found out the girl wasn't there.

I suppose I had a paternal instinct residing inside of me back then, because I couldn't help but feeling an intense pang of concern within my chest. The girl's mother had shrunk back into a corner, staring up at me with tears in her bloodshot eyes. I strode towards her, looming over her like a predator.

"Where is she? Where did she go?" I asked, raising my voice well over her cries. She shielded her head from view, her fingers digging into her scraggly hair.

"I won't tell!" she screamed with the resolve of the mother she was. "I'll never tell you!"

I was infuriated. The only thing I wanted was to get her daughter back to safety! The children were Alexander's additions to the captures; I would never take a child's life away! But she didn't understand, and I understood her fear. For a moment, that was.

"You're just making things worse!" I exclaimed, kneeling in front of her and seizing hold of her wrist. But tears kept spilling from her eyes and staining her tanned features; I couldn't stand the sight of her any longer. I noticed how raw and swollen her wrists were; despite of being no doctor, I could tell they had been inflicted because of the ropes and the chains that had bound her and that they would get infected in such conditions. But I had already submitted to moments of mercy, and I had taken care of some of the prisoners' wounds, and they had all rejected it. I was tempted to bring a pile of water and clean those wounds, but the answer would be the same.

"Look, this is no place for a young girl all by herself," I told her, trying to make my voice sound softer. "She could be hurt, or worse! There's no telling what horrors await down there!"

And it was true. Sherringford the miller had rambled deliriously about certain monsters that prowled and lurked in the shadows of the darkest corners of the castle, most concretely in the cell areas, and that they had been of aid to Alexander. After that time, I witnessed one of those monsters entering a room, dragging its feet and scraping its skin, but it was only a mere glimpse. I inevitably came to believe it- no, _they_ were there, and that they would be merciless with a rogue prisoner.

I reached over and laid a hand on the woman's face. "Please, I'm only trying to protect your daughter. I would never hurt her!"

In that moment, her eyes, ablaze with anger, met mine. "You liar! You are soulless, heartless, and I know you would hurt my child without a moment's hesitation! Damn you, God damn you to the deepest pit of Hell!"

First, disbelief took hold of me; then came anger, the rawest of angers I had ever felt inside me. I didn't think it twice: I backhanded her soundly, with all my strength, and she fell over with a yell in pain. That was what was eating my insides: pain, hand in hand with anger.

"You don't understand! None of _you bastards_ do!" I bellowed. I was tempted to beat her for her insolence, her motherly courage, but the girl was more important than her. I stormed out of the cell and dashed through the corridors like a madman, asking some of the prisoners if they had seen a girl go past their doors. Some replied with more insults, some others kept silent, and I was growing more uneasy by the minute. "Blast you!" I cursed, and continued my search.

Finally, I turned a corner and found the little girl at least ten paces in front of me. She was there, running away from me in her blue summer dress. She was barefooted, her shoes lost or worn, and her panting echoed throughout the hall.

"Hey you, stop!" I shouted, striding towards her. She jumped around, almost tripping with a loose stone, and raised her hands toward me to keep me away. She was fearful, her eyes wide like saucers.

"Don't come any closer!" she exclaimed, but I didn't. I neared her, measuring the length of my steps so as not to scare her away. And like her mother, she cried. "I just want to leave!"

Her cries and sobs still echo in my dreams at night, and it's been two years since that event. I am heartbroken, for I see her crying in my presence now, but I faked compassion even when I was about to… about to kill her, yes. I was turning into a monster, and I barely realised it. Alexander was right: it had been my curiousness along with my selfishness what had caused everything.

"You can't go outside!" I told her, walking carefully. "It's too dangerous!"

The girl took a fist to her eye whilst she sobbed, and the other hand fumbled with the hem of her dress. I didn't stop walking, approaching her, instilling fear into her. She was beautiful, deucedly beautiful like her mother, and like her mother she had ended up broken, like the porcelain doll she was.

She sniffed and said, "I'm telling Gabriel!"

I scowled, ready to make my run to catch her. "I doubt that very much!"

I was this close to catching her, but she slipped from my grasp and ran away from me. I chased after her all the way upstairs like the madman I felt back then, desperately searching for her and hoping that none of the monsters would get to her before I did. Only God knew what they could do to her. After a long while running, I caught sight of her sneaking inside storage.

"I just want to go home!" I heard her scream as I crossed the door to storage. And she cried her lungs out as she ran, wailing in fear and despair as my heart remained unfeeling like stone itself. For a moment though, I felt like abandoning her there and be none the wiser as to her escape; I felt like letting her go and flee Brennenburg and return to what was left of her family. She would see the outside world again and escape the fate that would soon befall her. But it was my life I was saving and, indirectly, hundreds more.

I finally caught up to her, found her pressed to a wall and still crying. Like her mother, she stared up at me as I approached her, shaking like a leaf, like a mouse in front of a viper.

"Please, let me go!" she begged. "I won't tell anyone, I swear! I just want… I just want to go home!"

As she hid her face from me, I spotted a few shards of glass at my feet. Kneeling, I picked one up and placed myself in front of her. I took a few deep breaths before making up my mind. I raised the shard, placed it in front of her face. In that moment, she lifted her eyes up at me and saw me like who I was: a killer.

"No, no, please!" she pleaded, trying to back away in horror. "I'm begging you-!"

And I stabbed her. I stabbed her over and over again until my hands were drenched in her blood, until even my face was spattered with it. I ripped her dress and abdomen to shreds, left her naked and bleeding on the ground, and even after she was dead I dug the shard into her body… until I realised what I was doing. When the realisation hit me, I backed away, horrified. All colour drained from my cheeks as I stared at the girl's corpse, bloodied and disfigured. I didn't know what to do. My instincts told me to run, and so I did.

I ran and ran, yearning to get out of the castle and its horrors, but my own fear impeded me from doing so. I was afraid, listening to my mind's screams: they were dreadfully similar to my little sister's… Hazel. Killing that girl had almost felt like killing my own flesh and blood, a little girl of sapphire eyes and mahogany hair with a fondness for blue. Thinking about Hazel made my stomach churn and wretch, my guts twist and knot in such a way that I wretched and coughed loudly, with all my strength. I wanted to get out. My instincts told me to run, and so I did.

I am still running.

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_A/N: First one on the table. If you paid attention to the game (which I'm sure you will have, lol), all the references are all from the audio files. For example, I assumed the girl was the one who was wearing the blue dress that you find bloodied in Storage (just before you get the two rods and the note) because she was the only little girl Daniel (or so I think) found himself dealing with. On the other hand, in some of the audio files that are his mind's ramblings, you can hear one saying "All dressed in blue" in an incredibly melancholic tone, as if wistful. Also, there is a sentence in the last third of the story which is EXACTLY the same as another in Daniel's diary (guess which?), so yes: there is also his diaries. I dare you to guess which entry it is and where it is found, lol._

_There should be more of this coming soon. Reviews are appreciated!^^_


	2. 2: 21st August, 1839

**Author's Note:** Finally the next chappy! Life's been hectic lately and I've been on depression, so shut up, lol. Anyway, here it is and I hope you enjoy it. Have a nice read!^^

**Disclaimer: Apply the usual here; copyright goes to Frictional Games.**

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II

21st of August, 1839

_21__st__ of August, 1839_

_It's o__ver. Everything's over! Just two days ago I defeated Alexander and banished the Shadow from my own; I've left death well behind me. I don't yet know if the Orb was destroyed, for it simply vanished before my eyes and I haven't seen it since. Castle Brennenburg has collapsed and will remain as ruins for time to erode and corrupt and for nature to cover. In there, buried under those remains, my sins will remain. I can't deny the things I've done, but at least I found the confidence and resolve to set matters right. I would've very well given up if it wasn't for the note I left myself, which tells me I was desperate to forget and trace another course. _

_I remember little of how I was before except for one thing: I am evil by nature. I am alone now whilst I'm writing this and I have no other choice but to say it. Though after realising the cruelty of my actions I sought to redeem myself, I remember I barely felt conscious of what I was doing at times, and some others I was fully aware and didn't want to stop. I remember how viciously I beat and tortured my victims. I remember my lack of qualms. I remember how merciless I acted when in front of Alexander. I remember how I lost my mind day by day and how I plunged into darkness without knowing how I was ever going to get out. Why? Because of some selfish desire that cost me more than I could ever afford._

_Feeling human again feels strange in itself. Why though, if we're all human? Because we humans can commit depravities and atrocities that go well beyond our imagination, and I am the example. My evil nature is no reason to say I am innocent, since one would say I was not in my sane mind, but I gave vent to all the frustration I had had bottled up since I was a little boy. I remember it perfectly, and the sound of naked flesh hitting naked flesh was the most rewarding sound I would ever hear. God saw me from above, and I know that I will not see Him like I had been taught to as a child. 'God is amongst us', my mother used to say, and I received proof of such statement in school._

_There was a boy older than me, Henry Bedloe, who was on the same boat as I. For a time, we were friends –or rather, acquaintances– until his situation caught up to him and changed him. He became a bully and he tormented all of us. _

_One day, he was about to pick on Hazel. I wasn't peaceful like I should've been; instead, I lost control of myself and made him pay for his crimes. I was and am no avenger, no Angel from Heaven to punish those who sin, but I wanted to do something to end the violence. Violence begets violence, or so they say, but I didn't care. I struck Henry to the ground in a flurry of punches, and it all raised havoc. All those that had been Henry's victims gathered around me, cheering me. _

_The other children urged me to do it. My name was voiced in a steadily rising pace; they wanted me to do it. I couldn't help but wonder if I was really committing so cruel an atrocity, but I thought no more and struck Bedloe's face with a rock. With a broken bleeding nose, he ran away from me and though I had done justice, what nobody had done before, I couldn't help feeling like him. I'd suddenly turned into Bedloe._

_God would've stopped me. Perhaps he'd tried, but I'd been too blind to see Him and too deaf to hear Him. My punishment came afterwards, when I got home that day, and it was harder than others. I hurt even more because it wasn't some of those beatings my angry and drunk father used to torture with me at night__; he was sober and disappointed. He hit me with strength I thought herculean, but I deserved it. The other beatings had led me to be like Bedloe, but he was different: he either cried or became angry, and he always chose the latter. On the other hand, I wished to relieve my pain by not inflicting it upon others, so, in a way, I was different than him. Now I've realised that's not true._

_Yesterday, after taking __at least two trains, I arrived at Canterbury, where my family lived. The last time I saw my father was on the second week of April, a day prior to my departing for Algeria. I didn't ask for much from him: he merely looked at me in the eye and dryly bid me good luck and a safe adventure. After that, I'd gone to see Hazel at the hospice. I hardly remember her face, but I'll never forget her eyes, sweet and warm as always. She was the last person I saw before I left England, she was the only person that was actually happy to see me; as such, she was the first person I visited._

_She was beautiful. That was the first thought that appeared in my mind as I caught sight of her. Even with her pale face and weak complexion because of her illness, she was still the pretty girl I always liked to boast about. Hazel was more of a look-alike of my father than me; I, on the other hand, remind everyone of who our mother was. I never received such an embrace in my whole life; sadly enough, all the love I ever received after our mother died came from Hazel. Hazel didn't believe I had returned; she'd thought me dead. I could've very well perished in Brennenburg, but she would and will never know the story. _

_Hazel is the only person in this world that I love wholeheartedly. _

_She's my dear little sister._

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_A/N: There is some theorizing in here as to who Henry Bedloe is (he IS mentioned in the loading texts), whom I think is a psycho and a sadist who was haunted by the same situation that haunted Daniel: physical abuse, only that Daniel didn't go as far as to turn to sadism... that is, until we get to Brennenburg and see the side he's kept hidden for years. As far as I'm concerned, Daniel is evil by nature, only that he can show some of his kind side for as long as that nature doesn't show up. That's how I see it; anybody who'd like to debate, do send me a message and I'll gladly reply to keep up a discussion. _

_And also, yes: Hazel IS Daniel's sister, mentioned specifically in the commentary by one of the guys at Frictional (I think it was Thomas)._

_Reviews are appreciated!^^_


	3. 3: Like Family

**Author's Note: **And now, some insight on Herbert and Daniel's relationship. Enjoy!^^

**Disclaimer: Apply the usual here; copyright goes to Frictional Games. I do own Elias, though.**

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III

Like Family

Since he'd been a mere child, Daniel had always been told about the sea. He would hear stories of seamen who did and didn't return from their voyages; he would hear of other boys some years his senior entertain younger ones with stories of pirates and treasures, and so would the adults do. He'd asked his father what he knew about it, that large and seemingly endless extension of water; Elias, his father, had replied dryly but with hidden emotion.

That's how Daniel remembered it.

Now, it was the 6th of May, and Daniel was on his way to Gibraltar. From there, they would take another ship to Algeria, and their expedition would begin.

It was incredible: Daniel was in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by only _sea_. He had seen it on art and drawings, but never with his own eyes. As he stared on, he felt indifferent. Whilst it did instil some sort of positive feeling into him, the sea also conveyed a feeling of loneliness.

And Daniel hated being alone.

Ironically, he was on his own now, nobody of confidence to be with. Well, nobody except Herbert. Just like their physician Dr. Tate, the professor had been an old family friend, and it had been him who had given Daniel the initiative to dedicate himself to more extensive and thorough studies, like mathematics and physics. But strangely enough, Herbert took it upon himself to introduce Daniel to the world of Archaeology, and there he was: on his way to Algeria on an expedition… with Herbert, no less.

Daniel sighed, his thoughts drifting to Hazel. How delighted would she be if she could get out of bed, if only for a moment, to catch sight of such scenery? How delighted would she be? Daniel was proud of his younger sister, if not envious: she was in such a condition, her lifespan having been predicted dozens of times, and she was still strong, still smiling. There were things Daniel could never hope to understand.

"Since when do you fancy being alone, Daniel?"

Daniel turned just in time to see Herbert approaching him. He smiled briefly and turned his back to the professor.

Herbert was a peculiar man. Despite being like a knight with impenetrable armour when it came to emotions, he often opened up when around Daniel. Did Herbert trust him that much? Daniel wondered. He was a man in whose eyes distrust and bitter sarcasm towards life was omnipresent, a man whose heart was partly made of stone, a man whose tongue spoke mystery and wit. He was the best person Daniel had even come across.

"I suppose I'm not allowed to comment on _your_ fancies, am I, Herbert?" Daniel inquired in return, shifting his stance as the professor came to lean against the railing. "But yes," Daniel finally said, giving in, "I did feel like distancing myself from the rest."

Herbert snorted. "You haven't opened your mouth, not a single time, since we left Dover. Cat got your tongue, hm?"

"I knew something felt weird," Daniel joked. It took Herbert a few seconds to chuckle, obviously not amused by Daniel's sense of humour. "I haven't felt like talking, that's all. There's nothing wrong."

"Do you _sincerely_ have to pretend, boy?"

Daniel snapped his head at Herbert. "I thought we'd left that behind, old man."

Herbert suddenly pointed a finger at Daniel. "Oh, look over there, behind you!"

And Daniel did.

"By Jove, boy, you're as dumb as always!" Herbert exclaimed, flicking the back of Daniel's head. That was enough for Daniel to complain through gritted teeth. But Herbert's features suddenly mellowed. "Forgive me for bringing something as unpleasant as that."

"Never mind," Daniel said, dismissive. "I hadn't been called that in a while."

When Daniel looked at Herbert, he found his companion staring at him, wide-eyed.

"Oh no, what has this world come to?" Herbert asked the heavens, throwing a hint that literally got to Daniel's nerves. "What did you expect to be called then?" Herbert released a bark of laughter, and Daniel blushed. "You obviously aren't at your best, son. I thought you knew me."

"For God's sake, Herbert…"

"Now, now, don't be so stiff," said the professor, fixing his steely gaze on the sea. Silence reigned between them, all the while Daniel was staring down at his hands. "It's something to do with you family, is it?" Eventually, Daniel nodded. "Why am I not surprised?"

But the young man was not bothered by such sarcasm. It was true: whenever Daniel would present Herbert with a problem, it would always concern his family. Despite being twenty-five, Daniel still had the tactlessness of an orphan: never in his life had he been subtle when trying to solve a problem with Elias. Because Elias would never listen.

He heard Herbert sigh. "Oh, old Elias…" he uttered, smiling briefly. "Now then, what's this about?"

Daniel was taken aback: Herbert, willing to listen in the middle of such a journey? Daniel had imagined he would return inside the ship and go back to his readings, yet there he was, lending the support Daniel had hardly ever received. He couldn't help a smile.

Elias wouldn't listen, but at least Herbert did.

And it meant the world to him.

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_A/N: Herbert did strike me as this kind of man out of what Daniel wrote in his diary, how Herbert's voice was like and the few interactions in the flashbacks we saw in-game. So, I decided to pull this off just to see what I could do with it. Didn't turn out too bad, didn't it? Ma certo, that is up to you to decide._

_Special thanks to Zeoness for their support!^^_

_Reviews are appreciated!^^_


	4. 4: Tears of Blood

**Author's Note: **Finally an update! Man, I've been trying to get to this, and I haven't been able until now. Two updates instead of one to make up for the lack of thereof lately. Enjoy!^^

**Disclaimer: Apply the usual here; copyright goes to Frictional Games.**

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IV

Tears of Blood

For the first time, I truly believed.

I have believed in God for as long as I can remember, but never so ardently like I do now. After all that had happened in the castle, after all that… there was no share of forgiveness and mercy to be shown to me. I believed God had finally come to punish me.

After fleeing Brennenburg's ruins, I returned to Altstadt, to the inn, so as to recover what few things I had left there. I was warmly greeted by the innkeeper, Herr Ackermann, and it was his daughter that took me back to my room. As I followed behind her, my insides churned and knotted: to think that I had killed a child her age… And she was beautiful; that was the worst aspect of all. Once we had reached my room, Ackermann's daughter left with a brief smile. I couldn't help but do the same.

Whilst I was packing the few clothes I had, an idea came to my head. I have to admit that if it weren't for my faith, it would've never happened and I would've run away from what had to be done. Without a doubt I thought myself insane: what would her reaction be? I was thinking of returning to Herr Zimmerman's family now that Alexander was dead and gone and present apologies that would surely fall on deaf ears, yes. Why bother? I wondered. In her eyes, I was just a murderer.

Still, I tried. I asked Herr Ackermann about this certain family, about which Ackermann spoke with heavy grief in his voice. It turns out that he and Zimmerman had been close friends until the latter's death, a fact that left me devastated. I hadn't destroyed a bond, but two. I asked for a coach to take me to Zimmerman's home but, saying that it would take too long, Ackermann volunteered to take me there. I was worried about his daughter, yet she seemed well-prepared and used to being left in charge of the inn, so I eased myself and headed to the farm with Ackermann.

It took us around thirty minutes to arrive. It was just like I had seen it last time I was there. For a moment, I thought it devoid of life, but I was proven wrong when I caught sight of Zimmerman's boys tending to the horses in the stable. Lukas and Bastian, if I remember correctly. They were both smiling whilst they chatted with each other, brushing a horse clean. I was happy to see that the events a few nights ago hadn't taken away their God-given happiness. They deserved it, especially after what I had done to them.

I told Ackermann to stop the carriage and I jumped off it, telling him he could go back to Altstadt if I took too long. With that, I approached their home. It was austere and was kept in an almost cynical sort of way, but the green plains that spread around the house were enough to prove that they had enough. I buried my neck with my scarf and was in front of the door in less than a minute. I was scared, not to mention terrified, but I knew in my heart that it was the right thing to do, even if I would earn nothing more than hate.

I banged the door twice and waited to be noticed. Not a couple of seconds later, I came face to face with Zimmerman's wife, Erika. My heart skipped a beat, and I could see hers had done so too. Horror and anger invaded her features for mere instants before hesitation took over. I was silent like a tomb.

"Herr Daniel…" I didn't expect to be called that, but I made no comment; I wasn't even aware she knew my name. Erika averted her gaze, gripping the door with a tighter grip than before. "I-"

"I have just come to bid you farewell and…" I also hesitated: I had never been brave enough. Eventually, I said, "I am also here to apologize. I do not expect your forgiveness, let alone your mercy, but I am nevertheless meant to apologize."

Erika's eyes were pools of tears and wells of emotion. Never in my life had I seen a gaze as moving as hers, and I remember thinking it would haunt me for the rest of my life. She remained solemn, tears streaming down her face, and in my sorrow I knelt before her, unable to look into her eyes. I fended off my own emotion, shouting scornful and reproachful words at myself: was I trying to mend a broken heart? My words, I knew, had fallen on deaf ears, and in that moment I was seized by such regret and self-disgust that I was also moved to tears. I did not move from where I was.

But instants later, Erika's arms were around me, like the father did with the prodigal son. I cannot describe what overcame me, but I returned the gesture and offered as much consolation as I could provide.

"You're not at fault, Herr Daniel…" she whispered between sobs. How could she say that? How, when I had led her husband to his death? How, when I had given them a reason to hate me? I did not understand until she spoke again. "Hans knew Alexander von Brennenburg would… come for him."

In surprise, I withdrew and stared at her, fighting off the desire to console her and even stay there with the family. But nobody, _nobody_ would replace Hans Zimmerman as Erika's rightful husband and their children's father. Not even me, who had the best of intentions for them. Erika took my hands in hers, and for the first time I felt the warmth of forgiveness.

"I was more afraid of seeing you than of Alexander," she said, smiling bitterly through her tears. "He was a despicable man… but I saw… I saw something different in you." I felt a knot in my throat again, but before I could say anything else, Erika's features changed. "Did you… did you kill him?" There would be no avoiding her questions, so I nodded. "What did he say… at the end?"

"He said…" I swallowed, hard, refusing to recall Zimmerman's words of hate and anger. "… 'May you burn and pay for your sins'. After that, he wished that I may find myself again… and salvation with my sanity."

I could see those same words in Erika's eyes. I could hear her repeating her husband's words, but I could not feel their prayers be answered… if they can be called prayers.

The same moment I left, I cried bitter tears of anger and grief. Those tears were my punishment, and the sorrow that wracked my heart was my torture. I had not received forgiveness: I had misunderstood Erika's gesture. Her husband had gripped my hands that same way, and their gazes had been the same. My heart was bleeding the blood of all those I had killed, and their sorrows and hatred had joined in one to make me atone for my sins.

The same moment I left, I cried bitter tears of blood… the blood that stained my hands.

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_A/N: Was playing Amnesia the other day and this struck me, along with the following one. Keep on!_

_Reviews are appreciated!^^_


	5. 5: Home

**A/N: **Drabble-ish. Enjoy!

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V

Home

A smile was his reward. A kind smile. A _true_ smile.

He loved her. Oh, how he loved his kid sister. His angel, his friend, his _sister_.

He'd faced off against death, against his darker self; a perilous, maddening fight. It was a smile, _her_ smile, that lifted all his sorrows.

He loved her. Oh, how he loved her. She was Hazel: his angel, his friend, his _sister_.

She was home.

Home.

Home…

It was a strange word. Daniel had never had a home, nowhere to call a safe haven. He had never _felt_ safe. He only did when around her.

His wounds would not heal. Not with time, not with tears, not with the happiness he had long thought forgotten, nonexistent. They would only heal when around her.

She was his home. Her smiles, her loving gaze, her company: Daniel took solace in them. And he smiled, and he loved her. Because he was safe.

He was home.


	6. 6: Of Pianos and Bittersweet Music

**Author's Note: **Thanks for the reviews, guys; they mean the world to me. More drabble-ish stuff coming up. Enjoy!^^

**Disclaimer: Apply the usual here; copyright goes to Frictional Games.**

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VI

Of Pianos and Bittersweet Music

Music. Oh, wonderful music coming from the sitting room.

The piano we had belonged to our aunt before she gave it to our mother. She used to play for hours, and we listened to the melodies that had many times nursed us to sleep. I remember she taught me to play a section of Beethoven's 'Für Elise'. Day after day I practiced, but mother would always point something out.

She did, with a smile that was like music itself.

Since she passed away, it was different. Father was bitter towards the music mother used to play, and many had been the times when, after a beating, I would sit at the piano and play for myself, only to be taken and beat again. Music eventually became bitter for me, too, but I always regretted not having the courage to sit down and let my fingers play.

That's what Hazel did in my stead.

She was born to be a musician. She would always smile when playing. Hazel had a beautiful voice and skilled hands, so much she learnt to play the piano long before me. She used to tease me because of that, much to my dismay. I would often attempt to draw their hands while they played, and I would often succeed; drawing was always my forte. Then I would show them and some other time, along with our father, we would go and stroll around Regent's Park… my favourite place.

I returned to Canterbury for some time to visit what was left of my family. I brought Hazel home from the hospice with her doctor's permission. We were so glad to see each other we did not stop talking during the cab ride home. When we were there and stepped through our door, we were welcomed by the sound of mother's piano. It wasn't her who was playing, but father. I believed the bitterness had finally vanished from his heart.

Father had never known how to play. Had he set out to learn because of mother's memory? I wondered. I glanced down at Hazel, who smiled and patted my back so as to force me inside. I remained standing, hearing father play and humming along. Minutes later he stopped. I did not know how to react: should I call his name? Draw his attention to me? I was scared, to say the least.

But when he turned, the most joyful of mother's melodies played in my mind once more.

"Daniel?"

And I smiled. For the first time in months, I _truly_ smiled.


	7. 7: Don't

Special thanks to Zeoness for their reviews. Thanks!^^

* * *

VII

Don't

He was nearing the gates of Brennenburg. He was nearing his destiny, his death, his rebirth. Every step he took was a life to be taken.

_Don't. Stop walking._

He stopped, looked back in trepidation. The outrider, after securing the reins, touched the brim of his hat as a final goodbye.

_Don't let him leave._

He was nearing the castle. What would the baron be like? Would he really help him? He kept the orb close to his side, wrapped in cloth. He was to protect it from any stranger.

_Don't take it to him._

His shadow felt alien. The snow-white moon cast a shadow bigger than life itself, an all-encompassing shadow of death. He clutched the orb against his chest, begging for protection.

_Don't stop praying._

He could see him. Alexander of Brennenburg, standing at the gates of the castle, smiling at him. Fear, unrest, hesitation.

_Run. Don't look back._

Alexander greeted him, still smiling. He didn't know what to do, what to say. His grey eyes were pure ice. Fear… unrest.

_Don't look at him._

But help was needed. He was Death's messenger, and his shadow was Death herself. He shook Alexander's hand.

_Don't go inside._

He stepped through the gates, into a world he would never understand. The orb was beating like a second heart, warm to the touch: his only escape from Brennenburg's icy atmosphere.

_Don't accept his offer._

Another step, another beat. The hearts were speeding up, pounding in his ears. Brennenburg offered no hospitality.

_Don't trust him._

It was difficult not to.

_Don't._

It was so difficult not to.

_DON'T!_

Another step, another beat. But his heart had stopped. Tears were falling, his soul was broken.

_Don't hesitate._

_Don't let him live. _

_KILL HIM!_

And his tears are still flowing.


	8. 8: Nothing

**Author's Note: **More drabbly goodiness, as angsty as a few others but still good, I guess xDDD Enjoy!^^

**Disclaimer: Copyright goes to Frictional Games.**

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VIII

Nothing

He hurts. He hurts all over.

Unlike his former friend Henry Bedloe, Daniel chose to cry every time he was beaten. But he cried silently, letting his tears flow freely without making a sound. And he would always sit under his desk, hug his knees to his chest and stay there, crying, cursing his luck. _No boy or girl at school except Henry has my problems_, he complains to himself.

Why does he have to have them?

Daniel punches his desk over and over until his knuckles are sore and bleeding. Those wounds are nothing compared to those his father has given him: they are wounds he can stand, wounds he can heal. But why do they hurt all the same? He doesn't understand, and he cries harder. _Every boy and girl at school except Henry meets their parents after class,_ he thinks, wiping his cheeks dry.

Why doesn't he?

But it's always the same: except Henry.

_Henry Bedloe has the same problems as me, _he reasons, tasting blood on his tongue. _But he gets angry and doesn't cry. And… and I don't want to hurt others. Mom always said that was bad._

Yet nobody, he realises, _nobody_ has hurt Henry Bedloe anymore. Only those who are stupid enough dare to make him angry. He intimidates, and Daniel doesn't.

_I've never been special, and I'll never be. But I don't want to be hurt anymore. I don't want to be beaten or insulted or cast away._

Hs misery overwhelms him, and he cries more loudly this time. Tears flow like rivers do, like the blood from his wounds. He doesn't have what others have.

Daniel doesn't have anything.

* * *

_17th of August, 1839_

_Many years have passed since that day._

_And I still have nothing._

* * *

_A/N: So, what would you like to see next? Though I have a few ideas in store, I want to hear what you want me to write for a few chappies, or some other time here and there. _

_Reviews are appreciated!^^_


	9. 9: Rage

**Author's Note:** Sorry about the very late updates, but exams have taken up much of my free time. Now, here are the requests/suggestions that were made. The two will be posted at the same time. Here you go, Zeoness!

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IX

Rage

My first kill: my first failure, my first _true_ fit of anger.

I had hesitated, and that had been the mistake that had set the cogs into motion. Alexander was adamant that I should perform the warding ritual to fend the Shadow off, but I had never killed somebody, not to mention I had never held a weapon. My hands had been shaking all the time. Upon Alexander's demands, I stood looming over my first victim. But I didn't do it, and Alexander lost his patience: he thrust the dagger into my victim's heart. My hands were still holding that dagger, my hands were the ones who became stained with blood.

"No… no… no, no, no, NO!" I panicked, doubled over as I stared at my bloodstained hands. My own blood had frozen in my veins and I could barely breathe. "Oh, God, what…" I was so terrified I couldn't speak properly. I looked up at Alexander: his hands were clean; deadly pale, but clean. I envied him, and so heavy was the weight on my chest that I fell to my knees. I couldn't stand it.

"Daniel?"

Alexander. He was so close to me, but I wouldn't look at him, not after what he'd done. I even sensed concern in his voice though after such a deed, I staunchly believed that concern was fake. I was shaking, trying to pull myself together: all my efforts were thrown overboard when I felt his hand upon my shoulder.

"DON'T TOUCH ME!"

Seconds later, I realised that scream had been mine. I had slapped Alexander's hand away, and then I brought myself up to my feet. "Don't you dare, not after what you've done!"

"It is what must be done, Daniel, nothing more."

"Horseshit! Lies, that's what it all is!" I backed away from Alexander as though a prey before its hunter. "He… he pleaded, Alexander, he _bloody_ pleaded for his life! He claimed… he claimed he was innocent!"

"So will everyone," said Alexander, impassive as rock itself. "They're monsters, Daniel."

"They're _people_!" I shouted, more to myself than to Alexander. "They're people… and I- Oh, God… they're just people…"

"And what does that make you?"

"NO! Not that, Alexander, NOT THAT!" I was falling into my own panic, drowning in the sea that it was. Tears clouded my vision, but I blinked them away; my head was spinning, but I controlled myself. "_You_ made me do it! You did! I'm- I'm no monster!" I did not try to hold my sobs back: I was too weak to bottle everything up. "I didn't… I didn't do it…"

"Would you rather have lost your life instead?" asked Alexander. "Would you rather have prolonged his life so that more could be lost?"

"I wasn't willing to let that happen!" I exclaimed with wide eyes and shaky legs. "But you… you forced me, Alexander, you _forced_ me! I wasn't READY!" I felt miserable, some part of my mind reeling in disbelief: I wasn't ready? Was I willing to kill to save myself? "I didn't kill this man, and yet… and yet my hands are stained with his blood and yours aren't when _you_ were the one who moved the dagger down!" I complained, tears streaming down my face. "Why is that? WHY?"

I never got an answer. Instead, Alexander turned on his heel and made as it to leave. The Orb… the Orb was the reason behind my suffering. The only way to eradicate my suffering would be to destroy it… and that is what I set out to do. With two strides I was at the table, and in milliseconds I had the Orb in my hand, ready to be smashed against the cold, stone floor. Something wasn't right: I was going mad. When you're out of control you get a singular feeling, which is what I felt as I contemplated destroying the Orb.

Before I could do anything though, Alexander had snatched it away. "You fool!" he cried. "Do you have any idea of what could've happened?"

I laughed. "No, not at all!" I exclaimed, feeling light-headed, "but I couldn't care LESS!"

Alexander did leave me afterwards… and thankfully. I screamed and cried, kicked the tables over and gave vent to my rage. Once, I was about to throw up, but my tears wouldn't let me.

I was no monster. No matter what Alexander said, I was no monster.

My own deeds proved me wrong.


	10. 10: Seeing Is Believing

**Author's Note:** _Fan Of Game_'s suggestion: related to the first chapter, Cold Blood, featuring Daniel, Mr. Scary, and Sherringford the miller (who is my OC and I own him xD)

**Disclaimer: Apply the usual here; copyright goes to Frictional Games.**

* * *

X

Seeing Is Believing

There was one time that Brennenburg seemed to me like a haunted house, with unspeakable horrors lurking in its shadows as opposed to the home to a prestigious baron that it was supposed to be. One of the prisoners, Sherringford the miller, opened my eyes if just for an instant, but I did not heed his warnings.

It was one of my first nights patrolling the cell areas that time. It was the second night after the first warding ritual; I had not yet become who I would with time. As usual, there barely were any disturbances. What did call my attention was how loud somebody was shouting and crying, begging for their life and complaining in pain, and then there was a loud slam at the end of the hall. I hurried onwards. I did not see anybody around, but whoever had been there had caused great fear, for most of the prisoners in that area were shaken and awestruck.

The cell that had been slammed closed was Sherringford's, whom I found curled up on the floor with his face a mask distorted by horror. He was weeping uncontrollably, nursing his wounded arm and praying. I laid the lantern on the floor, knelt beside him and reached out to touch his arm. I had not even grazed him when he bolted upright, staring at me with eyes wider than saucers. He seemed to relax when he saw I was not he or she who had caused him such distress, but nevertheless his tears kept flowing.

"It's… it's you…" he breathed out, eyeing me with relief.

"Who did that to you?" I asked, gesturing towards his arm. Sherringford stiffened. I cannot describe the rage that seized hold of him, but I can say that the man scared me.

"A monster!" he exclaimed, gripping my arm with herculean strength. I saw his wrists were swollen and had been scratched with claws much bigger than an animal's. "There are monsters here, monsters that would only be in your imagination!" He was panicking, shaking like a leaf. "There are no humans here! That thing did this to me! Everybody saw it! Please you have to get us out of here!"

How could I say no? How to explain to the man I was on Alexander's side? I could not free them… but I _so_ wanted to.

Sherringford released me and buried his face in his hands. "Oh, Heavenly Father, deliver us from evil! Deliver us, oh Almighty Lord!"

I thought about what Alexander had told me. They were wicked, their lies strong enough to fool you, but I couldn't get myself to reject Sherringford's warnings and pleads. Was there really something down there? Something as monstrous as he had described? Doubt clouded my mind: it was either believing him and betraying my only hope of survival or casting him aside and keep going according to plan. I did not know what to do.

But then, I saw _it_. I saw the monster that would haunt both Sherringford's and my dreams.

It was as tall as me but bulkier, deadly pale and hairless. It had scars all over his body, and patches of its skin were hanging out, revealing the flesh and bone beneath. Ropes and bandages were wrapped around its body, leaving red marks in various regions. One arm was still like a human's, but its right one had morphed into an oversized claw of thin, metal fingers.

Had it been human before? I wondered. It walked dragging its feet and moaning from time to time, and then I saw its face. I could barely keep myself from gasping. It was completely deformed: its eyes were looking in either direction, and it had no nose. Its mouth had been transformed into a horrible-looking maw: its chin reached halfway to its chest! No bones held it rigid save for its still-remaining upper mandible.

The worst thing of all was that it was walking towards us.

Sherringford released a shriek as he backed away, repeating his prayers like a madman. The monster was too close to the cell for me to make my escape unharmed. I weakened the flame of the lantern and retreated to a corner. I was a coward, but I was too scared to do anything. I didn't have the luxury of rebellion either: Alexander was my only chance of survival. I fell deadly silent.

I watched as Sherringford begged for dear life once more whilst the monster stepped inside and grabbed him again. I will never forget Sherringford's features of horror: he even looked at me and begged for me to do something, but I did not move an inch. His cries became more and more frantic until they reached the very core of my soul. By the time I reacted, it was too late: his cries had been silenced.

That night, my nightmares were worse than ever before.


	11. 11: Questions of Life

**Author's Note:** Next oneshot, featuring Hazel and Daniel in one of the moments we shall never see.

**Disclaimer: Apply the usual here.**

**

* * *

**

XI

Questions of Life

"Hey, Danny… who are we?"

I stared in shock at Hazel, watching her briskly lift her face away from the book she was reading. She was always very curious, and many were the times throughout our early life that I was asked questions I never had answers for. I was curious by nature myself, too, but not so much as Hazel. I put my pen down, for I was preparing an essay for Professor Herbert, and crossed a leg over the other.

"We're we, Hazel; who else?" I asked in return, pushing the numbers off my mind.

"Not like that, silly," she snapped, crossing her arms with a pout I considered hilarious. So much, in fact, that I burst out laughing. "Hey! What's so funny?"

"Your face, that's what's funny!" I said once I had controlled myself. "But really now, what's with that question? You know I barely have any knowledge about philosophy; why don't you ask dad?"

"Because I want to ask you. You're a grown-up-"

"Dad is, too, and more than me."

" –and it's easier to talk to you," Hazel finished, looking down at her hands. I sighed: she was right. Hazel didn't have a steady relationship with our father either (though I was an idiot back then for suggesting such a thing), and it is to her that I will always be grateful. I placed my chair beside her bed and straddled it, looking at her with a smile.

"All right, then. But… Hazel, can you believe I'm twenty-two and I have no idea of what to tell you?" I asked, shrugging. "I wish I knew who I was. Sure, I can tell you I am Daniel and that I am your brother, but that would be… superfluous."

"What's that?"

My smile widened. "Unnecessary; it's something you already know. We never get to truly know ourselves, so nobody will be able to answer that question with all certainty. I could tell you I am a good person, but others will say I'm bad instead, and vice versa, too." I looked around our room, and my eyes fell upon her quill pen on her desk. "Take you quill pen as an example: what can you tell me about it?"

Hazel scratched her temple, frowning pensively. "It's my favourite quill pen."

"Let's see… Would you consider it useful?"

Hazel nodded. "A lot."

"Well, I wouldn't because last time I used it, it spattered my paper and my sleeve," I told her with a nod. "See? Now we could start arguing over such a trifle, like the professor tends to say, and we would never reach a certain conclusion. Do you understand?"

Hazel nodded again. "But that's just an example, innit?"

"Just an example," I said, chuckling. Hazel flopped back on her pillows, annoyance drawn all over her features.

"I wish I knew myself," she complained. "I'm always in bed and I don't have the chance to see what I can do. Say," She looked up at me, "would you do something for me?"

"Do what, exactly?"

"Tell me who I am."

Her smile forced me to comply, and gladly. Since it was night and father wasn't likely to come out, I kicked off my boots and sat in bed with her, keeping her close to me as if she were to vanish in thin air. A few minutes of silence went by before I said,

"I can't tell you that-"

But when I looked down, I saw Hazel had already fallen asleep. And I smiled again.

"I can tell you you're what I love and cherish the most in this whole world. And that I say with the utmost certainty."


	12. 12: The Flame Still Burns

**Author's Note:** YES! "Skeletons In My Closet" is back on its track again. Sorry about the lack of updates, people, but life's been busy lately and I haven't had much inspiration to write. I've found it now once again, and this story will see its completion. Oh, _Fan of Games_: your suggestion has not gone unheard. I shall work on it to deliver the best. Enjoy!^^

**Disclaimer: Apply the usual here.  
WARNING: This is by no means a Daniel/Alexander nor has that been implied. Use your insight and you shall see what this is all about (inspired by Alexander's recollection in the morgue, by the way xD)**

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XII

The Flame Still Burns

Since my escape from Brennenburg almost three months ago, I have not dared muse upon the subject again. But tonight, Bonfire Night, I am drawn into my memories once more as I watch the flames burn and crack before me.

I am drawn to the only person whom I ever met there: Alexander. For an instant I chastise myself. How could I think of _him_, the man who betrayed me? The man who used me like his tool? By simply thinking of him… the man I was about to call my friend.

No, Alexander didn't use me. I _deceived_ myself. I led myself to believe that there was a way out of my predicament, that that way was the easiest one. Of course it wasn't. But… if we take something, aren't we supposed to give something in return? The Shadow would've taken my life, but I was giving it another. I did not disrupt any equilibrium, technically speaking, but I did disrupt my inner equilibrium.

I don't even feel alive anymore. My self, my essence, was drained away. Every ritual ripped away a part of me and excised every ounce of sanity I claimed to have.

And yet, quite ironically, it was those moments of fragile stillness around Alexander which always breathed a bit more of life into me. I had been about to consider him a friend because, in reality, he was not like I had described in my entry: no, he was that and much more. No matter his evil nature, no matter his despair, he was somebody I regretted losing.

In fact, there was this once that I discovered he had quite the strong fondness toward gardening, and especially toward orchids. I was partly surprised, since back in London orchids were part of a satisfying business. When one day I saw him taking care of a set of white orchids, I was thoroughly amused: he had them growing on the very ground! On solid stone! I knew nothing of gardening and yet I could not help admiring the care with which he did it.

"I may not know of gardening," I began, drawing Alexander's attention to me, "but isn't that a bit complicated? Growing flowers on stone?"

"What we take from Nature, Nature takes from us," he said as I absently ran my hand over a block of stone.

"They are magnificent. I'm sure they must have been easy to get, since this is a state-of-the-art business."

"I did hear of that singular business in your country." Alexander stood, brushing the dirt off his hands and looking at me. "I've made a thorough study of how to grow them here. And when you dedicate yourself to something, it is only natural that it will not be fruitless."

"I suppose so." I looked at the orchids for a long moment, thinking about London. I missed it. Compared to the little haven that was Brennenburg, in the middle of the forest, the great city seemed less attractive for me, and yet I still missed it. "They remind me of London, those orchids. An old friend of mine kept his balcony full of pink ones; _Laelia_s, he told me."

"The best example of refined beauty."

"So you're also familiar with floriography?" I smiled. "I wasn't mistaken when I wrote 'well versed in worldly matters', I think." Alexander merely waved my remark off with a smile of his own.

It was an uncommon sight to see him smile. Most of our days together were grim and dark, not to mention dark like a blasted pit, but fortunately there was a light of ray through every cloud. I still boast of understanding people faster than others and thanks to that, I could read sadness and wistfulness in that smile of Alexander's… but it was still a smile nonetheless.

And whenever I see Herbert's _Laelia_s, I am reminded of Alexander.

Sadly, the flame still burns.

* * *

_A/N: The _Laelia_ is a genus of orchids of barely 25 species and, in my opinion, the most beautiful of orchids. Go look it up in Wiki to get an idea of the flowers Herbert was growing on his balcony (that is mere speculation, just to make a reference to gardening xD)_

_Reviews are appreciated!^^_


	13. 13: Correspondence from Hell

**Author's Note: **YAY! Updates! Sorry for the delay... again. Anyway, enjoy!^^

**Disclaimer: Copyright goes to Frictional Games.  
NOTE: Special thanks to Topgallant for his bombardment of reviews! XD**

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XIII

Correspondence from Hell

_1__7__th__ July, 1839_

Everybody was dead, and he'd seen it in his dreams.

Sir William Smith, Dr. Tate, Professor Taylor… They had not survived whatever had come for them. Daniel had been considered a suspect by Scotland Yard due to his closeness to the physician, but he was immediately released when he caught a glimpse of a half of Tate's bloody and disfigured face. An inspector had told him Tate's body had been found dismembered, his entire room covered in blood and more details Daniel refused to listen to.

Daniel had literally dashed home, avoiding any kind of contact with people. Knowing what would happen nauseated him, left him in a state worse than insanity, and his guilt wasn't making it any better. He didn't even look at his landlady as he dashed upstairs to his room: would she die, too?

He broke down. Panic seized hold of him, rendered him unable to think clearly, _rationally_. He did not cry, yet he let tears flow freely as his eyes widened in horror. What to do? If things continued like that, not only he would die in the end, but he would also be a mass murderer who wouldn't be caught until he was buried underground. In the end, he did cry, but silently, in fear that his tears would beckon death.

And then, he realized.

The letter. The Baron's letter.

What else could make him walk down the path to protection? The Baron was his only choice so far, and nobody but the Baron would believe Daniel's story. It was inevitable: he had to trust Alexander. With tears still in his eyes, Daniel reread the Baron's letter.

"_I known, and I can protect you. Come to Brennenburg Castle. Alexander."_

Daniel clenched his fists, the letter crumpling under his grip.

It had to be done, no matter what. If it meant avoiding deaths, _his_ death included, then so be it.

Time to send the Devil a reply.

* * *

_A/N: Yes, after such an event, I consider Danny to be demophobic, ergo, to have a fear of crowds. Suits him too, though, I dunno why. Anyway, next chapter will come up ASAP! Bear with me, people!_

_Reviews are appreciated!^^_


	14. 14: Solace

XIV

Solace

For once, Alexander and I did not have much to do.

We were still investigating the effects of the Orb before warding off the Shadow. I was reading a quite interesting book –about famous archaeological findings- when a soft hissing sound caught my attention. Confused, I looked around until I focused on the window. It was raining! Well, not that it doesn't rain buckets here in London but in the middle of summer, it was strange to see such a sight. Still, Prussia wasn't my homeland.

Since I was a child I had the habit of storming outside to our garden and standing under the rain until I finally felt cold; sometimes, there was no such moment. I had to keep my composure during my university days, because I was always reminded of home. Sadly, Hazel was never able to keep me company under the rain. I always prayed for her to join me soon.

When I saw it was pouring down, I jumped to my feet, barely conscious that I had been about to knock my chair over. I'm sure Alexander must've thought I was already crazy, because I remember myself feeling elated, as a little child making his first discovery of what the world around him is.

"It's raining!" I exclaimed.

"And what would be so peculiar about- Daniel!"

I didn't give Alexander time to finish: like I used to do, I stormed out of the study and headed for the main entrance. It was childish of me, yes, but I could not help it. When I stepped foot outside and the rain finally hit me, I was relieved beyond my own comprehension. I clearly remember what I thought about during those seconds of silence: Mayfair, Regent's Park in a day such as that one, my old home in Dover, Herbert and his persisting that I take a parasol for the desert… They were memories that seemed so distant and yet so close to me…

Simply standing with my eyes looking skyward was relieving and peace-instilling. I felt at ease, as if all my concerns had fled if just for a moment. I smiled.

"You forced me to do this again."

"Blast it, you scared me!" I cried, jumping away like –dare I say- a scared cat. "And what did I force you to do? You didn't have to come out."

"I share your fondness toward rain," Alexander said, stepping up to me. "It always helped me clear my mind."

"Excuse me, but… 'helped'?" I asked, careful not to dig up any personal matter.

"Rain always felt bitter after a certain day." Alexander smiled. "I won't bore you with that, but you asked, didn't you?"

"It did for me, too, after a while." I slicked back some strands on my forehead. "But even what you hate can be your greatest relief."

"Words of a writer. It figures."

"Please!" I cried, chuckling. Like I detailed in an earlier entry, there were certain moments when I felt at ease when in Alexander's company; this was one of them. Since we both decided to stay outside for as long as we felt like, we sat on the stone path and we remained silent. Eventually, hands behind my head, I lay down and stared at the sky. It was a more beautiful sight at ground level.

And even when it cleared, we stayed there.

I smiled, glad to see the first rays of light break through the clouds.

* * *

_A/N: I shall send a Grunt after anybody who considers this A/D. I HAVE SPOKEN! xD_


	15. 15: Broken Smile

**ONE WORD:**

**SORRY.**

* * *

XV

Broken Smile

"You _really _have to go?"

He ruffled her hair, the action which she most appreciated, and looked at her with mellowing eyes.

"I do, young lady. I don't know how long it'll take, but you know the professor: always straight to the point," he said, smiling briefly. But she was not convinced; that much was clear. "Hazel…"

"First mom and pa, and now you."

"But I'll be back! I promise I will; don't you doubt that!"

Those bits of consolation he offered seemed to do some good, for Hazel smiled with glimmering eyes. When would he see them again? When would he return?

"I trust you, Danny. Now you go have a grand time. I'll be waiting here, like I always do."

He pulled her into a strong, energetic embrace, knowing that, perhaps, he wouldn't see her in a long time. For a moment, his smile faltered, but Hazel didn't see it.

It was time to face his destiny.

But not to face it with a broken smile.

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_A/N: Back from the temporary hold. I promise next update will be longer: I've gotten back into my groove._


	16. 16: Looking Back

XVI

Looking Back

"Alexander, how long have you been living here?"

Daniel fished out two more chemistry volumes from the shelf and joined Alexander by his desk. The baron took out a thin notebook, handed it to Daniel as he handed Alexander the volumes, and opened the first one on a specific page before replying. Daniel waited patiently: Alexander was deeply immersed in his work.

"At least fifty years now," he replied. "I wouldn't call any other place but this my home. I always fancied living in this kind of place as a child, to be frank, and it in fact became my home when I was thirteen."

Daniel settled down onto a chair, his eyes wide in amazement, smiling. "By Jove, that's astounding! Were you on your own?"

"No, fortunately," Alexander said, "since I had my servants to keep my company. My parents died in an accident and so, I was left to fend for myself. It didn't really trouble me, being on my own: I found it relaxing. I used to go out at night and explore this place: I know every secret it could've held in its day."

"It sounds like an interesting life. I'm sure you had many responsibilities, no doubt," said Daniel, "but I always wanted to lead a life like that. Both my sister and I have always wanted to be independent, climb up the ladder on our own."

"Oh? And what's your life been like, Daniel?" asked Alexander. There was a curious and amused look to him, and his eyes sparkled behind his glasses. Daniel cast a sad look at the notebook he was holding, hesitating. "Forgive me; I hope I haven't touched upon any delicate matter."

"Oh, not at all," Daniel quickly replied, gesturing nervously in defence. "It's just… I thought about London. I guess I still feel a bit homesick." He lifted his gaze up at the baron. "My parents live apart: my mother travelled to the Americas whilst my father stayed with Hazel and me. When I found Herbert and he took me in as his student, I felt as if I'd escape from some horrendous nightmare."

Alexander's brow creased. "You make it sound dismal."

"Because it was!" Daniel stated. "God knows I still love my father, but at that time I had the worst of his bitterness. He drank, he beat me regularly and my sister from time to time, and I could never ask anything of him." He sighed. "It's not too pleasant to recall such events, but I feel a bit lighter every time I do. Thank you for asking, Alexander."

The baron smiled. "You're welcome, but I still feel like I pushed you a bit too far."

"It's alright: sometimes, talking about this kind of thing works wonders, even though you don't believe it at first."

"And your sister, Hazel, how is she like?"

Daniel smile at just the thought of her. "She's the best thing that's ever happened to me. She's ten years my junior, she looks… a _bit_ like me, but we're really worlds apart. She… contracted tuberculosis when she was eight, sadly. She was admitted at the hospice a year later, and the doctors say her condition is getting better." Daniel couldn't stifle a shudder. "She's lived three years more than expected."

Alexander looked relieved. "That's wonderful to hear. She's a strong girl."

"I suppose she took after my mother in that aspect," Daniel said, shrugging. "Hazel pushed me to take the trip to Algeria: it would be my bridge to getting a job at the Museum. Still, she _did_ chastise me for going away for so long."

"You didn't tell her you'd stay here?" asked Alexander, cocking an eyebrow.

"Not with the Shadow behind me," Daniel replied, anxious. "I wouldn't forgive myself if I put her in harm's way. No, she'd better not know until I return."

A moment of silence went by before Alexander spoke again. "Tell me something, Daniel: have you ever felt as if you had everything and yet nothing?"

Daniel perked up his head in alarm as Alexander rose from his chair. "Alexander… W-why are you asking me this?"

The baron's countenance changed; with no other word, Alexander left his study. Daniel jumped to his feet, literally knocking the chair over, and rushed out to search for Alexander. "Alexander, just-!" Daniel sighed, desisting. Lowering his head, he walked up the corridor, back to the guest room. He felt even worse after seeing Alexander so upset?

"_Have you ever felt as if you had everything and yet nothing?"_

_Oh, Alexander, thousands of times. I've never had anything in the first place, but then everything seemed within my reach… only so that it slipped away again. I hope you tell me someday._

"What have they taken from you?"

"Everything."


	17. 17: The Sewer Monster

**A/N: **Two chapters in one day: I wanted to make up for my absence. Thanks to _Fan of Games_ for reminding me of this, even though I hadn't forgotten ^.^ I'm having fun getting to the twenty chapters, and I have hopes this will get to the fifty or so. Yes: I want to make this a long collection of oneshots, and then comes a full-length fanfic! Maybe even sooner, but anyway, enjoy!^^

**Disclaimer: Apply the usual here; copyright goes to Frictional Games.  
Note: Any other request, shoot them my way!**

* * *

XVII

The Sewer Monster

Mud, sweat and blood: a mix that sent my stomach lurching.

I'd been wandering through the sewers for only God knew how long, taking wrong turns every now and then. Once I'd tripped over a rock and fallen face-first into the calf-high murky water; another time, I'd come across a dead end. I'd also heard voices, as if someone was being dragged deeper into the humid maze of halls, and then a desperate plea. It had happened some times before, as if Brennenburg was showing me all I wanted to know.

I wiped the sweat from my forehead, having come across a set of stairs. I reached a room full of machinery, and I soon realized what it was for. The sound was oddly familiar to the one I'd heard coming from the spinning wheel that blocked my path. I used the switches until the sound was much fainter than before: aware of my progress, I turned on my heel and headed back. But just as I reached the end of the stairs, a loud low moan came from my right: something was coming, something _even worse_ than the other atrocities.

I raced back the room, my heart pounding furiously in my chest, and I looked for a place to hide. It was coming: it had already broken through the bars… and I hadn't closed the door. I strode towards it, slammed it shut, and then I knew where to hide: behind a large pipe right in front of me. I wasted no time: I crouched behind it, shrinking as much as I could, trying to make no noise whatsoever. The door suddenly burst into bits… and then I saw it.

This monster was a head taller than me, and it had nothing human to it. Its head was split in a half: it _was _only a mouth with unlined teeth, but that wasn't what scared me. Its skin was rotten, open and showing the muscle beneath, and he was clad in a Greek-like robe that was made out of wood _nailed_ into its body. One of its arms was still somewhat human, except that nails and screws had pierced the flesh from side to side; the other was _hollow_, the entire forearm bone structure disposed of, and in their place was a gigantic butcher's blade. It was like an attachment, only done to a human body.

I stared in horror as it made its way inside, dragging the blade along the stone floor, looking for me. It could hear me, it could smell me: even though it couldn't see me, I had the feeling it would get to me someway. It moaned, breathed loudly, remained idle for a few seconds until the idea of making a run for it crossed my mind. But that was suicide: even if I ran at my fullest, the creature would catch and kill me in just two strides and a swing of its blade. And so, I remained still, tearing my eyes away from it.

I had signed my death sentence seconds later.

My lamp fell from my lap with a loud clatter, more that loud enough for the monster to know where I was. My heart sped up: when I wanted to realize, I was running at full speed, trying to get away. I could hear the monster moan and the blade make a louder sound as it chased after me. I forgot the lamp: I didn't care less about it. All that mattered was getting away from that thing, but I doubted I would make it; still, I couldn't even scream due to my panic. The splashes would only draw it further, and my two mishaps didn't make things better. When I looked back, it had caught up to me.

I was done for.


	18. 18: Chords

**A/N: **Next chapter is up! I'm going to make a point clear, to _Fan of Games_ and anybody who's interested: the full length fanfic will act as a sequel to Amnesia, during the time Daniel returns to London, spends some time with Hazel and then the inevitable goes down. As you can expect, more Amnesia-related creep-outs will happen, along with mystery, horror and all those things we all love. I can't give out any spoilers now, but I have a plot point that will work nicely. Stay tuned! And guys, thank you SO MUCH for the reviews: they warm my heart.

**Disclaimer: Apply the usual here. Copyright goes to Frictional Games.**

* * *

XVIII

Chords

I never was too much of a music enthusiast until I played the piano once more at Brennenburg.

I assumed Alexander was one, for I had seen books about music in his library and study, along with some piano sheet music. Scattered around the vastness of the castle, I'd seen some pianos, all of them closed, covered in a thin layer of dust. Seeing them reminded me of my mother, who was an excellent piano player and from whom I learned to read sheet music. I'll never forget how well she taught me and thinking about her, one day I decided to sit down in front of one of the pianos and play. Feeling a light tinge of playfulness, I chose the one closest to Alexander's study. I wanted to see how he would react.

At first, I hesitated. The sight of the black and white keys was unfamiliar, and no song I'd memorized came to mind. My fingers hovered over the keys, my mind racing, desperate to remember something before Alexander showed up. Then, I did: a song my mother had written as a gift for my ninth birthday. And when I remembered, I played. I was surprised at my own skill when I hadn't touched an instrument since I was sixteen: it had been ten years since that. After ten years, I felt a little bit better.

I became so concentrated in playing that I didn't notice Alexander coming up behind me. It was only when I finished that he, well, made me jump like a cat.

"Another musician?" It was barely a question. I stood up so quickly I almost knocked the seat over, but I was in time to hold it. I watched him smile at me.

"Yes!" I said, still recovering from the startle. "Actually, it's the first time I've played in ten years. Frankly," I chuckled, "it wasn't too bad, I think."

"That was wonderful." It was strange to hear something like that coming from Alexander, but I supposed everybody appreciated good music. "Who taught you?"

"It was my mother. Seeing all these pianos scattered through the castle reminded me too much of her," I explained, feeling the blush on my face. "I suppose that was a bit-"

"Not at all," Alexander cut in, nearing the piano. "Even though I don't play anymore, I keep them here because, like you, I am reminded of somebody close to me who, unfortunately, doesn't walk this world anymore."

My heart sank. Alexander spoke with a wistful smile, something that told me that he was not too affected and that he'd accepted what happened, but it still instilled a feeling of melancholy that I could not keep at bay. I fixed my gaze upon the keys.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. If she literally pleaded for me not to mourn her, then I assume she'd do the same with you." I lifted my gaze to Alexander, alarmed and surprised. At this, his smile widened. "My wife was quite independent and strong, which is why she asked me such a favour. Of course, I had no other choice but to comply." He grew pensive, absently stroking a black key. "I suppose you've seen the white orchids I grow around the castle?"

"Oh, yes," I said. "If I may ask the question myself, are those connected to her?"

Alexander nodded, lifted his gaze to meet mine. "Indeed they are. Every time I see them, it helps."

I smiled again, averting my eyes from him. Playing the piano had affected me the same way the orchids did Alexander: it had helped. Not only to remember the bitter experiences of the past, but to remember that anything could connect you to the ones you love the most. When Alexander told me himself, I was not too surprised. He was a silent man most of the time, yes, but eloquent when the opportunity presented itself.

Even then, looking at Alexander helped. Because of him, I remembered what I had come to do to Brennenburg; because of him, I was reminded of my own deeds, of the blood that stained my hands.

And even then, it helped.

* * *

_A/N: This has a much more macabre hint to it, going back to Daniel and Alexander moments. I do imagine Daniel as a piano player, maybe violin, and given the sorrowful tone you can play, I think the cello suits Alexander just fine. Maybe the organ, too, now that I'm listening to Davy Jones' theme from POTC, lol. Who knows? There are many themes that work!_

_Reviews are appreciated!^^_


	19. 19: The Guardian

**A/N:** Chapter's here! I was intrigued by a specific entry in Daniel's diary, the one that you find (I think) around the Cistern area. I enjoyed working on this one; I came up with the idea today, and listening to Hans Zimmer and Mike Oldfield do the trick, like, too much xDDD I hope you enjoy this one and to celebrate the 20th chapter after a long time since the story's posting, I'll get a special chapter inside. Look out for that one!

**Disclaimer: Apply the usual here; copyright goes to Frictional Games.  
PS: I'm SO getting the OST when it comes out... **

* * *

XIX

The Guardian

I was tense, looking all around the Inner Sanctum with apprehension.

I was well aware of what Alexander planned to do with the Orb and even though I kept telling myself to calm down, I felt as a tiny mouse before an open-mouthed viper. The Shadow was the guardian of the Orb; if its power was used, the Shadow would come for the user. And even if that hadn't been the situation, the guardian would still come. Now, it was coming for me, and I was afraid that it wouldn't turn out as Alexander had planned.

In my anxiety, I couldn't help taking solace in Alexander's calm demeanour, but I nevertheless wondered how it was that he wasn't rattled. Just by what he explained to me about the Shadow, I assumed he'd seen one of those Orbs before and its guardian, so it was natural that he was experienced, but it was still unsettling. The Orb rested on his hands covered in cloth, and as if on cue, when I swallowed one last time, Alexander removed the cloth.

I was suddenly blinded by a fiery blue light, which was coming from the Orb, and then my head was spinning. It was the same as Algeria: I found myself in a whirlpool of images and sensations, and it was like it was reserved for my mind alone, as if the Orb was trying to show me something. I don't know if Alexander was also affected, but I could not but marvel at the visions. It was like an open book, information overflowing in rivers, and a small smile tugged at my lips. It was marvellous.

But as people say, genius resides in madness.

It was then that the roar came. I was paralyzed in fear. I watched how the walls became covered in red tissue all over, like a net quickly building all around us. It pulsated as the light became more intense, fierier, and my fear transformed into panic. It was the first time I had felt so scared. It wasn't entirely because of the Shadow or the light, but of the pain that seized my head. The images were still flashing through my mind, and I could feel it like a box stuffed up to its brim with contents: I couldn't hold it anymore.

No physical pain will ever compare to the one I felt back then, and I could not help screaming out. Alexander quickly hid the Orb again, and the Shadow withdrew. I didn't even notice that: I was down on all fours, shaking like a leaf, tears welling up in my eyes. I was in a state of pure, raw shock. I hadn't even imagined that provoking the Shadow like that would trigger something as searing as the pain that coursed through me.

"Daniel!"

As sensitive I was, I jumped back as Alexander's voice suddenly came booming. It was as if minutes before, I'd gone deaf. It took me some time to regain my wind and wits; when I did, I looked back up at Alexander.

"You're much more affected that I originally foresaw," he said, helping me up. I'm sure he noticed my shaky legs.

"If that's supposed to be criticism, then I accept it," I replied, averting my gaze. "I've never dealt with this before, that much I can say in my defence. On the other hand… my mind's not unscathed."

"Hm… This is bad news: the Shadow's closer than I thought."

My heart began racing; I could even feel it in my ears. "Oh God…" I raked a hand through my hair, turning away from the baron, my stomach lurching. Even though I was not meant to panic, even though I knew Alexander was there to help me, I could already feel Death's cold grip around my neck.

"There are certain warding rituals that will work to fend off the Shadow," Alexander continued. I was about to face him, but I thought it twice. If that was what would work, then I was determined to save my life. Eventually, after a moment of silence, I turned, my head ducked, and hesitantly met Alexander's gaze.

"Didn't you see it?" I asked, my voice thin.

The baron cocked an eyebrow. "You should've seen it, too. It did make quite the grand entrance."

"I'm not talking about the Shadow," I said, shaking my head. "I've felt everything I did back in Algeria, when I first found the Orb. There was… so many information flooding my mind, visions flashing in front of me; it was… simply astounding, though today I haven't been able to hold it anymore. It's just that it unsettles me. To think that there's something like all that hidden inside that Orb…"

"I have seen something like that, but I suppose not as much as you have," Alexander spoke with a nod. He started for the door and with his hand upon it, he then said, "I recommend you get ready for the rituals, Daniel. We will start tomorrow, agreed?"

What other choice did I have?

"Very well."

The next day, that pain became something worse.

* * *

_Reviews are appreciated! And people, we WILL get to the 50 chapters._


	20. 20: Special Chapter: Tainted

**A/N: **Special chapter of "The Skeletons In My Closet"! And the darkest thing I've ever written, even darker in my opinion than earlier chapters. In fact, I came up with the beginning of the full-length story thanks to this one. I won't spoil, but it'll be quite the beginning. Enjoy!^^

**Disclaimer: Apply the usual here; copyright goes to Frictional Games (who thank God made "Justine" available to everyone xD)**

* * *

XX

Special Chapter: Tainted

It was time for another ritual and as usual, Alexander was watching.

But it all seemed different today. There were the moans and pleads of mercy coming from the prisoners about to be sacrificed, the insults and words of fear and hate, the usual stench of blood and death. That was always present, so why did Alexander feel it was different?

There was no hesitation anymore: that's what.

Day after day after day, he'd watched Daniel perform the rituals in a meticulous way, all triggered because of his own fear. Day after day he'd watched him sweat and beg for forgiveness as he harvested the _vitae_ and took the lives of those people. It was fear that drove him, and Alexander couldn't blame him.

But today, the change was there, right in front of him, blade in hand.

The lines had been painted, the knife sharpened, the sacrifice ready. And yet, even at that juncture, Daniel would still hesitate and Alexander would watch indifferently… but not anymore. Alexander was feeling genuinely uneasy; it was as if their souls had been exchanged. The hesitation that usually troubled Daniel was now pestering him, making him see things the other way around. Alexander could see his own indifference now in Daniel's eyes.

And then it was over. In just seconds the corpse was bleeding, the lines traced and the dagger blood-stained. There were shadows to Daniel's gaze, shadows that made Alexander aware of the extent of the change he'd perceived. Daniel was looking down at the blood, eyes wide and gleaming with wicked intent, the blade dangerously close to his own chest. Though alert, Alexander made no move: he knew Daniel wouldn't think of killing himself, not after coming this far. But still, it made him wonder: what was going through the young man's mind?

It was as if he'd forgotten Alexander was there.

His face a mask of pain, Daniel gripped his hair with his free hand, smudging blood all over it. He looked down at the corpse again, his eyes even wider than before, ablaze with hatred. "It should've stopped… It should've stopped LONG AGO!"

Yelling out, Daniel plunged the blade right into the corpse's heart with a swift motion. Blood flowed out, staining his hands even further, and that seemed to terrorize him. His anger was swiftly replaced by terror. The look on his face was the final straw: Alexander stepped out of the shadows and neared Daniel, whose breathing had become shallow and his eyes darker.

"Daniel?" But the young man remained unresponsive, gaze fixed upon the bloodied corpse. "Daniel!"

He suddenly lowered his head, his shoulders convulsing, his entire body victim of a violent shaking. But his hands would never let go of the blade.

His howl, full of pain, echoed throughout the entire castle.

* * *

_A/N: Small review reply to Zeoness: "Thanks, girl, I do appreciate your support (and I'll miss being able to send you PMs). I hope you enjoyed this one!^^"_

Reviews are appreciated!^^


	21. 21: Iron Will

**A/N: **I'm sorry once again for the late updating, but I'm going through a really, REALLY rough patch and inspiration has literally disappeared. Still, I can't leave you all in the sidelines, so here's another short update in the meantime.

**Disclaimer: Apply the usual here.**

* * *

XXI

Iron Will

He would never let any harm come to her. Even as he lay on the floor, he could not allow such thing.

But his entire body ached, and so did his soul. There was no way he could lift himself up in time to avoid such a catastrophe. He could barely twitch his fingers to see if they were still responsive, but breathing seemed to be the only thing he had left to do to survive. He watched, breathing shallowly, as his father walked up to her… The only thing he had left was about to be destroyed.

And he would never allow that.

Fear made her tremble; she was shaking from head to toe, despair in her eyes. She was lifting her arms in self-defense, unable to do anything against her attacker… her father.

_I can't let this happen!_ Despite his mind's screaming, he was only able to lift himself up to his knees. The metallic taste in his tongue made his nausea get worse, and he almost lost balance if it wasn't for the immediate surge of strength that coursed through him.

He'd yanked at her hair, her braid undone, her thighs visible under her night-gown as he grabbed at its hem. She was crying out, begging for mercy that would not come, struggling to free herself… but to no avail.

Even though his chest hurt, even as he hugged his belly with a groan, even though his throat was raw from his own painful screaming, Daniel yelled out and charged. His shoulder connected with his father's side and she fell, eyes bloodshot from all the crying and her body shaking even more violently. No wound or ache would stop him now, not even the greatest amount of blood.

He was deaf, his heart pounding in his ears, threatening to burst out of his chest. But Hazel would not stop crying. So he held her close, hugged her tight against his chest, and then lifted her up in his arms, his body searing with pain.

He'd done it: he'd avoided the catastrophe. And yet, a feeling of fear still lingered.

But even if threats came his way, Daniel did not look back.

* * *

_A/N: By the way, Charlotte, thanks a bunch for the reply^^_


	22. 22: Reflections

XXII

Reflections

It was so different from what I was used to seeing… well, Altstadt, I mean.

All my life I've seen it going by, from here to there, nonstop, flowing through London as though a large river. I've seen myself lost in that current of life many times, sometimes not even knowing where I was supposed to head; some others, I would give in and go where the currents (and my feet) took me. For me, it was fascinating to see how different people were. Not only in standing and economics (a very influential thought these days; at least, for me), but on personalities, on the people's overall behaviour.

Staying in Altstadt for some time was incredibly different.

After my escape from Brennenburg, I managed to return to the village… with, I think, an impressive amount of luck. I was found by the outrider, Gabriel by name, and with him I returned to Altstadt. Not many people had seen me the first day of my arrival there, but the few who did were more than curious as to my state. It was Gabriel himself who gave me shelter until I recovered from my injuries, but neither of us was too keen on looking at one another. Gabriel knew me despite having just seen me twice.

"I didn't do it out of obligation," he suddenly told me one day whilst I was by the porch, focused on my new journal. I had been so submersed into my own thoughts that he startled me; he nearly made me jump. After looking down at me, he sat by my side, silent. I had just opened my mouth to speak when he did in my stead, saying, "Taking you in, that is."

"Why then?" I asked after a moment of silence. "You knew who I was, I'm sure of that."

"Yes, I remember you well." Gabriel threw me a sideway glance, frowning. "_Seien Sie ein kluger Samariter_." Puzzled, I turned my head to him, only to find he was oddly smirking at me. "It means 'Be a smart Samaritan'."

I didn't hold back a chuckle. "I won't argue with you on that."

"I gave you shelter because I did that once with someone else long before you," Gabriel explained, picking up a dry leaf from the ground. I was fairly surprised by his answer. "Unfortunately he passed away, but he was also a prisoner from Brennenburg."

My heart sunk. "Oh my…"

Gabriel nodded. "I found him with bloody clothes, both of his eyes injured to the point he could not see anymore, and screaming for help. After being unconscious for a day and silent for another, he decided to tell me what had happened to him. He was vague on some things, and I will never blame him for that, but he did tell me he was forced to kill his own child. God helped him find his way out of there, but he blinded himself with a sharp stone. I don't want to imagine how horrible it must've been for him."

He met my gaze again. "Was I meant to judge him? No. Maybe he was forced, maybe he did it willingly, but that didn't change the fact that he was a soul in need. I could not leave him there to die." Gabriel straightened. "Now you tell me something, Herr Daniel: does a murderer, forced or not, deserve a second chance to redeem himself?"

The question struck a nerve. Whilst I stared at Gabriel in surprise, he bowed his head with a hint of a smile, settled his hat on his head and left. I felt unable to reply to that question. Everything I'd done at the castle washed over me like a tidal wave and shook me to the core. The screams that echoed in my head enveloped me, closed in on my mind… until they were dissipated by the sound of children's laughter.

A group of five passed by, and a most curious scene developed. A young boy patted a girl on the shoulder; she turned to him with a scowl on her face that I found funny. He was clearly taken aback by her reaction, but by the look on his face and how he stuttered (despite not knowing what he was saying), I knew he was presenting an apology. He would barely look at her, as it used to happen, and after a moment of silence, even though she was shorter than the boy, the girl laid a hand on his head and grinned.

It reminded me of the time Hazel had gotten mad at me and I had to ask for forgiveness.

It reminded me of the apology I never gave, of the second chance I would never get.

The chance I'll _never_ get.

* * *

_A/N: I owe yet ANOTHER apology for such a delay. I've had tons of issues to deal with and I've barely had the time to write. From here on, since I'm basically finished with school, the chapters will come a lot faster. I do apologize once again._

Reviews are appreciated!^^


	23. 23: Death Is A Kind Mistress

XXIII

Death Is A Kind Mistress

_Don't worry, Daniel. It will be alright._

How can it be alright now? My life is slipping away, I… I can barely breathe; I don't have the strength to even twitch a finger. The Shadow is literally eating my body away, I've- OH GOD! It hurts so much! My side… How can I still be alive? Is this some kind of morbid joke that's being played on me? My-my side is _gone_! I'm… God, it feels like millions of teeth biting at my flesh. I… I can't take it anymore; I can't fight any longer.

Am I… am I crying? Feels like so, unless it is blood that's seeping through my eyes… which wouldn't surprise me. I don't know why I have this much time to reflect. Pain clouds my judgement and my vision, and the Shadow keeps advancing.

"Please… kill me or leave me alone, but…" I'm coughing up blood now like a bloody fountain. I'm pitiful. I'm here, lying helpless on the ground, accepting death as she should come: painful. Can I at least…? Barely, though I can still lift it up slightly. Oh, no… what in God's name-?

"Why like this…?"

My hand is… is just bone! I'd-I'd better calm down; it was to be expected. I don't know why I'm smiling so bitterly: it's like… I'm waiting for Death to blow out my candle like it did with the physician as if it was the most commonplace thing in the world.

I never thought bone would feel like this. It's an odd feeling I can't describe entirely; I can only say one thing: it's freezing and strangely soft. But I can't hold up my hand much longer; I'll let it drop now.

"A-Agrippa? Are you-?"

No, no, no, no! It can't be happening! It just CAN'T! My-my face! The Shadow's eating away my face! Please, somebody! No, anything but this pain!

_LET ME GO!_

[*]

Wait. This… this is a different place!

Am I awake? Am I still dreaming? I'm-I'm not at Brennenburg anymore! What is this place? And what am I doing here? Hm, the bed is too comfortable for all of this to be true.

"You're awake!"

A boy? Even though I'm still paralyzed with shock, I can't help but feel a slight amount of relief. He's smiling more widely every second that passes, and… he's not scared of me.

Wait, why should he be? Oh God… that-that dream! But was it really…? Just a moment, let me- My face is just fine! I-I can't believe it! God, what a relief…

Someone's coming; maybe I can get some answers from them. It's that boy again but he's with someone… someone that looks awfully familiar. Oh, no… it can't be. I'm not _this_ paranoid, am I? But- but it's just… Long white hair, icy blue eyes and an outfit similar to mine. He's like a younger version of…

"Welcome back, Daniel."

Why am I still alive?

* * *

_A/N: First things first, sorry for the late update. Been busy and all of that, but now summer's here and I have a lot more time to write. Second, this is the oddest thing I've ever written. The whole thing came from James Joyce's "flow of conscience" and, at the same time, the idea I had of writing in first-person perspective, but in REAL TIME, as things are happening and the thoughts you get at every second. I suppose you understand what I wanted to do after reading this thing._

_Credits go to: 1) Heinlein's "The Moon Is a Harsh Mistress" (from where I got inspiration for the title); 2) Grimm Brother's "Godfather Death" tale (to which I make a reference in this shot); 3) "Shadows of the Damned" Soundtrack by Akira Yamaoka (particularly the song "Clawing at the Veil")._

_Reviews are appreciated!  
_


	24. 24: Justice

XXIV

Justice

_October 25__th__, 1839_

_Altstadt, Königsberg, East Prussia._

"I repaired the watch."

I looked up from my notes to see Gabriel standing by the door, the chain of Herbert's pocket-watch wrapped around his hand and the object itself gleaming in his hand. The surface had been cleaned and polished; it looked even better than before. I smirked as I stood, closing my notebook.

"It's got quite the gleam."

Gabriel nodded. "I've taken good care of it, ever since you put it in my hands. You wanted it fixed, here you go."

I raised a hand and he stopped at midway. "Keep it. Consider it a way of saying 'thank you' for your services, though… I do think I could pay you with more than just a watch."

Despite my modesty (because I meant that), Gabriel shook his head. "No need for that; this payment is enough, _Danke_. Though I've always wondered: whose name is this?"

The outrider showed me the watch with 'Herbert' engraved upon the lid, and I chuckled. "It's the name of its original owner. He was a good friend and an excellent man. Unfortunately, he passed away before I came here, so I had it on me before it broke and I gave it to you. What, was there some confusion as to the names?"

Gabriel cocked an eyebrow. "Somewhat," he replied after a short silence. "Now, _Wenn Sie meine Wißbegierde nicht merken,_ I'll ask you a few questions. Come with me and we shall be away from unwanted attention."

Confused but silent, I followed Gabriel to the front door, where he advised me to fetch my coat, scarf and hat, as we were going outside. We took a road that led away from the village and into a dense forest, one that I hadn't been to before. It was similar to those that surrounded Altstadt, but it seemed somehow different to me. It was damnably cold, and the weak but chilly breeze did nothing against the feeling.

We trekked for a while and eventually Gabriel stopped at a certain spot by the river, silently looked around for whatever had crossed his mind, and then sat upon a large rock. "I suggest you do the same; this may take a bit."

I did as told, took a seat on the lowest part of the rock, facing the river. "Why come all the way out here?"

"Because there are some things that, even though everybody at Altstadt knows about the Baron, should stay between us," Gabriel replied. I stiffened, my heart speeding up. "_Nicht sorgen_: since it's not my place to prod, I will not ask for details you may want to keep to yourself."

"But why?" I asked, trying to keep my voice from trembling. "Why do you want to know what happened there? It's a story better left alone!"

"I told you about the prisoner I took in, remember? That should be your answer." As I looked up at Gabriel, to whom I had my back turned, I saw him discard his hat. "Still, I can tell you that you're not the only who has suffered at the hands of the Baron."

I understood what he meant immediately, and the realization hit me hard when Gabriel's gaze met mine. "You, too?" I asked tentatively. Gabriel chuckled.

"Indirectly, but I have. I was just a boy when I saw one of those things; the _Gatherers_ or so the called them," Gabriel explained. "My father was the outrider of the village at that time. The last time he saw that monster was the last time I saw _him_. He never came back from his expedition. The next night after his departure, I ventured into the woods myself, looking for him desperately. When I saw that monster, I was so afraid I ran without looking back. The next time I saw it was the night I brought you here."

"Really?" I was dumbstruck. "Nothing happened, did it?"

"Well, poor Jakob was hurt by that thing but it ran away without causing trouble. It eventually burned to death when my lantern fell upon it and the oil was set on fire." Again, Gabriel looked at me with a message I interpreted as 'I told you so' in his green eyes. "So you see, you couldn't have ended up with a more proper person than me. Most of the people who frequent the inn at night know where you came from, all bloodied and rambling, but nothing more."

I sighed. "I still can't believe everything that I did. I deserve to die, and I'm not afraid to say that."

"Well, we all deserve to die; that's one of the reasons we were born for!" Gabriel exclaimed, picking up a stone and tossing it in his hand. "When, ah! That's something we will never know. Things happen for a reason."

"Yeah, like that blasted Orb in the first place…" I mumbled to myself, looking at the river.

"Hm?"

"Just… thinking out loud." I paused for a moment. "I'm a murderer, Gabriel. I've done horrible things to this village and they did not deserve it."

Gabriel seemed to muse upon this, for he took his time to reply. "There's two kinds of punishment for murderers, then: one that is imposed by law, another that is imposed by justice." I watched him fish out a pipe from his coat and bite on its end. How could he be so calm?

"Why are you so calm?" I asked, echoing my thoughts. Gabriel looked at me, arching an eyebrow.

"Why shouldn't I be?"

That was the last straw: I climbed off the rock and stood a distance away from it, angrily staring at Gabriel. "Gabriel, I've killed _dozens_! Prisoners- no, _innocents_ that were locked up in Alexander's dungeon, and in just ten _bloody_ days! I-I even killed a young girl!" The rage with which I was speaking flowed through my veins, reminding me of all I'd tried so hard to forget. "They cried for mercy, but I did not listen! There's no punishment big enough for the things I have done!"

Gabriel's features had paled as he heard the short version of my story. "_Ein Kind? Das Blut eines Kindes beschmutzt Ihre Hände?_" I heard him ask, yet I didn't understand it entirely. Gabriel sighed, lowered his head. "_Dann sind wir dieselbe Art des Sünders, _Herr Daniel… We're the same kind of sinner."

My heart sank. "What do you mean?"

"Some years ago, I found a child lost in the woods, very near Brennenburg Castle. Coincidentally, the Baron had just returned from a stroll and, since it was almost night, he offered to keep the girl until the next day." A pause, then, "I myself found her corpse in a cave."

"My God…"

"So you see, the blood of an innocent also stains my hands; we've sinned the same way. Whether it be directly or indirectly, it doesn't change the fact that we killed those poor souls," Gabriel said with a bitter smile. "The 'thank you, Mister' that she said to me that day still echoes in my head. _That_ is justice."

"You don't deserve it, though," I said, bitter, looking away. After a few seconds I looked back at Gabriel, whom I found staring at me with that same bitter smile.

"We all deserve justice. The way we call Her is just a matter of our own choosing."

* * *

_Translations:_

_Danke - _Thank you_.  
_

_Wenn Sie meine Wißbegierde nicht merken_ - If you don't mind my curiosity.

_Nicht sorgen_ - Don't worry.

_Ein Kind? Das Blut eines Kindes beschmutzt Ihre Hände?_ - A child? The blood of a child stains your hands?

_Dann sind wir dieselbe Art des Sünders_ - Then we're the same kind of sinner.

**Translations aside,** I've had more than fun writing this piece. It's a bit longer, yes, but it's good to change once in a while. I'm also very interested in Gabriel's character, especially after reading "Remember", the collection of short stories that came with the updated version of the game (which also included the DLC Justine). I suggest you look it up; that's where I also got the references for the location of Altstadt (there are many "Old Towns" in German, and Königsberg doesn't look too rural, so I take it this Altstadt is a rural area surrounded by forest).

Reviews are appreciated!^^


	25. 25: Terror

**A/N: **About time I updated! I decided to take a long break from writing, but lately I hadn't found any inspiration to write... until now. After this break, this is going to continue and at this rate, I will get past the 35. Apologies to all, and happy reading! xD

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything. It all belongs to Frictional Games.**

* * *

XXV

Terror

It would never end. So long as he was alive, he would never escape the horrors his mind brought up.

It was the same every night: the same darkness, the same terrifying roar, the same feeling of desperation and terror that took hold of him. He would wake up with a yelp, drenched in cold sweat; sometimes, he even thought it was blood. Laudanum had become ineffective, so much that Daniel didn't rely on it to sleep anymore. Now, it was a drug, necessary to keep his mind working.

His very first week in Brennenburg was a terrible experience. In bed, he could rarely close his eyes, and he often chose to stay awake and write so as not to waste energy in trying to sleep. Other nights, he would walk around the castle. Its chilly atmosphere relaxed him, quite ironically. Though the most curious thing was he would always end up in the same place: Alexander's study. The baron only locked his study at rare times, so Daniel had access to the books almost every day.

The efforts to keep himself awake were not enough, though, and he would eventually succumb to tiredness. It turned even worse as his stay grew more prolonged. In the end, there was no reason to rest.

And though time has gone by, there is still no reason to.


	26. 26: Forsaken

**A/N:** Another chapter here! It's a bit longer this time; I'm getting back my groove and taking this thing back to what it was before. Enjoy!^^

**Note: OMG, 58 reviews? That's just awesome, people! Thank you so much!^^**

**Fan Of Games: **No offense taken, mate. I do admit it may not have seemed enough, but I wanted to go at a slow pace to set things back in motion. Thanks for the opinion though; that's what I appreciate.

**Zeoness:** What can I say that I didn't say in the reply? Thank you, and enjoy!^^

**Disclaimer:** Apply the usual here.

* * *

XXVI

Forsaken

It is neither science nor magic; perhaps it's a bit of both.

I clutch the amnesia potion in one hand, and take the other one to my chest. I ache all over, my head is spinning and I can barely move. But I keep moving forward, even if it means dragging my feet. It's ironic too: to move forwards when your purpose is to do so backwards. I'm a coward, that much I will admit, and so big a fool...

But I want to forget. Desperately. _Everything_.

The amnesia potion is something we used on certain victims… like the innocent arsonist, now that I remember. Oh, God… We made them forget so that the torture worked better. The vitae couldn't be harvested unless the victim had gone through a certain degree of pain, be it physical or psychological; sometimes, it was both. That's what made them much more valuable and efficient, Alexander had told me. And it looks like Fortune wants _me_ to be the last victim. Physical pain, oh yes; but psychological… Heaven knows I deserve it.

I've cried after several rituals, making use of all the laudanum I had at hand, but even then the narcotic didn't work. There were mornings when I would wake up as if drunk, and the effects of the laudanum took their time to wear off, be it for better or for worse. But after a few victims, I realized that it wasn't useful at all. My nightmares would keep me up all night, haunting me with voices of pain and despair.

And like I have done many times before, I break down.

In an earlier outburst of rage I've written down brutal accusations against Alexander. But what along the way I've lost of frustration, I've gained in common sense. Alexander had told me he could lend me his help… but at a certain price. I ignored the extent of that price and in my ingenuity I believed that it would be something material… rather than my sanity. I've been in denial all this time, and that I've paid for dearly.

Alexander didn't lie to me, not at all. _I_ lied to _myself_.

I want to forget. Desperately. Everything. _Everyone_.

I look at the small vial, my eyes bleary, and the eerie stillness of the liquid doesn't ease my mind. What I'm about to do is cowardly, almost close to suicide, but I don't have a choice. It is death by remembering or by forgetting. I curse the world, I curse myself, and I drink.

But right before I do, I ask myself…

Do I deserve to die?

* * *

_Any typos, do point them out: I changed from third to first person at the very last minute xD_


	27. 27: Peace of Mind

**A/N: **Is this a new chapter? YES! After almost a fricking year, I have updated this story. Now THIS is what you call writer's block. I have to thank one of my friends for inspiring me to write again, so thank you, David! (I know you'll read this xD). Anyway, this story continues on, but I want suggestions! I need to make it up to you guys in some way, and I'll write about whatever you feel like reading. Go ahead and sound off in a review!

"The Skeletons In My Closet" still lives!

* * *

XXVII

Peace of Mind

I never really returned to London.

Well, of course I did go back physically -I'm writing this at my old desk- but my mind and heart are still there, in Altstadt, that strange and mysterious little village in Prussia.

I spent exactly two years there after my ordeal at Brennenburg.

The first few weeks following my escape were hellish, since I had to get used to being around ordinary people again; yes, imagine that. I felt like I'd been centuries away from society, and even a small place like Altstadt seemed like a greatly populated place to me. To make matters worse, my sanity did not return (and _has not_ done so yet, but my present condition is a different story). I was raving mad, going through delusional cycles that could get to last days in a row, not to mention that I barely slept at all. I was a walking corpse, in the literal sense of the word.

It was only when a month had gone by that things started to change; again, for worse.

My determination to return to London was gone, I knew, along with my hopes and strength to live. My apathy was so overwhelming that I did nothing to change that. And then apathy turned into depression, a condition that hit me so hard I felt like a different person. I felt _dead_. I had given up on regaining my sanity, but even then I wanted to beg for it. I wanted it back so badly I was willing to give anything.

Perhaps it was thanks to my memories of home that I ultimately survived without my pleads for sanity being answered.

You see, I was placed under the care of a widowed woman who had two children to watch over. Once I was back to normal –or relatively, but it was anyway thanks to her help-, I realized that the two boys reminded me of myself and Hazel when we were young and happy. The two boys had not neared me, not even once, because of the fear I instilled in them. I was led to wonder: would Hazel want to see me like this? Was I willing to _let her_ see me in this horrendous state of mine?

Certainly not, but what could I do to get better?

I finally came out of my trance around October, if memory serves. It was one of the rare nights that I hadn't dreamt at all, and I was up before even Angela, my caretaker and the boys' mother, who woke up very early out of habit. So I was there, wandering around the house in silence, when I stumbled upon the kitchen. And then I did the strangest thing: I got to work, _made breakfast_ for the family, and then returned to my room. No sooner I was there, Angela and her boys were going down the stairs. I still remember their exclamations of surprise.

From then on, I started showing my thanks with every detail possible. It cost me both effort and time, given my state, but I made it. It was the least I could do for all they had done for me in return.

My relationship with Angela and the boys improved slowly; she was still doubtful of my full recovery and mental condition. I had to reassure her a few times –feeling unconvinced myself- that I was getting better. The kids, Henrik and Mikael, spoke to me in what little English they knew and they soon became interested in me. We all had trouble understanding one another, though, so I forcefully had to learn to speak German. Luckily for me, though, Angela had met English people before and knew how to speak the language, so she made things easier for me to a certain extent, but sometimes we had no idea how express ourselves in the other's language. It was thanks to this that Angela and I grew closer to each other, both being curious about our own languages and cultures. Somewhat odd, now that I look back.

And now came the hardest part: the village.

Getting acquainted with people was hard; _speaking_ to them, impossible. Though rumours about me and my positive relationship with Angela had spread among the villagers, they still didn't trust me; my sentiments about them, exactly. It soon changed, for better rather than worse, on the winter of 1839. The stroll I had gone for coincided with a friendly snowball fight the villagers' children –including Henrik and Mikael- were engaged in. A wrongly-thrown ball hit me square in the face, and panic spread among the kids. I surprised them when I laughed, rubbing at my aching cheek, and joined the fight. I'd never had so much fun before.

My behaviour around the kids seemed to ease the suspicions that surrounded me, if _just_ a little bit: people seemed to believe that I wasn't as mad as I seemed. I would have tried handling things on my own, but I'd had the feeling it would only get worse.

As months went by and 1841 approached, I realized with both dread and satisfaction that I was successfully becoming a part of Altstadt, that I had changed. Dread because I feared I would be unable to return to my world; satisfaction because it had been a great feat. I grew used to the calm and quiet; to Angela's kindness, Henrik's aggressiveness and Mikael's sense of humor; to my daily routine when I was offered a job at the inn, and to the horrific memories that assailed me every once in a while. I learned to cope with my feelings and memories, both old and new, and sought relief in the fact that my penitence –if religious terms are allowed- had been my hellish recovery and the hardships I'd had to endure.

I was a new person that had been precariously been built with fragments of my former self.

But at least, I had some peace of mind.

I grew _fond_ of Altstadt. That's why heart and mind are still there, with Angela and the villagers and the Daniel that I left behind.

And never mind my sanity. I'm at peace now.


	28. 28: Foreshadowing

**A/N: **Thank you for the warm reviews! This is what I call a comeback! xD

Honestly, thank you, old and new readers. I've taken note of the suggestions you've throw to me. This is my approximate take on what **Hazins **offered; though I already have the part when Daniel arrives to Brennenburg (with a much more macabre touch), I haven't done anything regarding the nightmares, so here it is. This is a bit of a recycled fragment from a story that I had gathering dust around in my hard drive, so I decided to tweak it and add more details to construct a chapter.

To **Fan of Games**: your suggestion is plain awesome but I don't have the intention of including it in this story. What I will do in a near future is prepare that sort of thing: a story comprised of _short_ stories that will deal with Amnesia but not necessarily with Daniel or characters in the game. I'll have to take inspiration from "Justine" for that. Thank you for participating and I hope you stick around for that!^^

Enjoy the read, people! More ideas are coming.

* * *

_The white brick road he'd been following had no end and, as he found out after turning around, neither did it have a beginning. He'd been walking idly, aimlessly, just going where his feet would take him along the road. There was nothing of notable importance around him, just darkness: raw, unsettling and all-encompassing darkness. He dared not step out into it, fearful that it was not as kind as it seemed to be. Unsettling? Yes. Disturbing? Absolutely.  
_

_Where was he anyway? _

_Just when the thought of stopping crossed his mind, he caught sight of a door not too far away. He approached it as if an automaton with a strange sense of curiosity. It towered over him, two lions engraved on either side of the gates. There was something familiar in that statue, something he could relate it to, and yet he was at loss. He reached out and tentatively brushed the door with his fingertips, only to withdraw with a yelp: the gates were searing hot despite their ivory colour. Shaking his hand, he angrily stared at the gates, causing him to notice something he hadn't before._

_Markings- or rather, a sentence in Latin._

_**Debitum est nondum pensus.**_

_It didn't take him long to piece everything together. Another gut feeling, this time different, which told him what would happen next. He stared at the gates with eyes wide in horror, backing away a few steps, until his ankle touched nothingness. He managed to regain his balance as he desperately flailed his arms and in despair, he looked behind him: the path was there no more. A heavy weight settled in his chest, bringing him to the verge of tears._

_**Is this really what's meant to happen?**_

_Slowly, very slowly, he faced the gates, his eyes reading the inscription over and over. Tears finally spill from his emerald eyes and after so long, he collapsed to his knees. He stared on as the gates slightly creaked open, but he saw nothing on the other side: he just felt an overwhelming wave of heat hit him square in the face. _

_He knew what was coming._

"I just want to go home…"

_**No… No, it can't be…**_

"I'm innocent!"

_He was shaking like a leaf, paralyzed in fear, so taken aback that by the time he wanted to realize, he was already being dragged towards the door by dozens of hands and even more lashed out to grab hold of him. He struggled with as much strength as he could muster to escape their deadly grip, the scorching air that seeped through the crack in the gates, the powerful stench of death it carried. Burnt flesh, blood, insides spilling out of badly-beaten bodies: every possible image assailed his mind as he got closer and closer to the gates._

"I won't tell! I'll never tell you!"

_**PLEASE!**_

"HELP ME!"

_But it was not them screaming. And they threw him in the fiery pit._

_Like Daniel in the lion's den._

* * *

He remembered the dream, but not what happened afterwards.

Daniel awoke, confused and disoriented, and then winced due to the throbbing pain in his head. It took him some time to get back his bearings; when he did, he heard Alexander's voice from somewhere around him.

"Daniel?"

"I'm dead, aren't I?"

"Why would you think that?"

Daniel slowly sat up –realizing he was still in his bed-, then buried his face in his hands. "How do I know I'm awake? The nightmare… it-it felt so real. My God…"

"If you were dead, you'd be somewhere else," Alexander said, a light tinge of humor in his voice. "It's alright, boy."

"The nightmares have got worse ever since I arrived here." Daniel angrily looked out the window. "I don't know what's worse: being sleepless for five nights in a row or _five_ simple minutes of rest! This wasn't supposed to happen…"

"Everything takes time."

Alexander was _not_ helping at all. Daniel found him propped against the desk, arms crossed and a sympathetic look on his features. "Apparently, it's going to take over twenty years to get rid of these nightmares!" Daniel exclaimed with a glare. "I'm going insane, Alexander; I can feel it. Every waking moment I just _know_ another part of my sanity is gone."

"That happens with time, Daniel, and not just nightmares," Alexander said in amusement.

Daniel looked away with a scowl. "I'm not in the mood for jokes."

Alexander had spoken the truth; Daniel simply didn't know yet.

* * *

_A/N: The translation for that phrase is "The debt is not yet paid"; if anybody knows latin and that's wrong, don't hesitate to correct it xD_

_If it's not what you were expecting, **Hazins**, I am very sorry. I wanted to give the last fragment a surreal feel, and damn it's come out weird. I kinda like it, though; I hope I delivered._

_Reviews are appreciated!^^  
_


	29. 29: Crimson

**A/N: **Sorry for the lack of updates in such a long time! I've been with my finals and I haven't had a moment's rest. I just regained inspiration for this story, too, in a moment of Fridge Brilliance.

Also, I'm very happy with all the kind reviews I got in the last chapter. I hope I haven't lost some of you people; if I have, I understand: I'm a mess xD I'll be bringing some special chapters after this one, like some dealing with Justine or other miscellaneous characters of both games. If you have any preferences in regards to characters you want me to write about, sound off in a review! Suggestions are always welcome!^^

Enjoy the- wait: this is rated T, turns into an M-ish thing at the end because of the tone of the chapter. Now yes: enjoy the read!

* * *

XXIX

Crimson

It was at Dr. Tate's that he first saw blood.

The doctor, in a moment of absentmindedness, accidentally cut himself with a scalpel. Thought not too deep, the injury was wide enough for it to start bleeding almost immediately. Dr. Tate was quick to wrap a bandage around his finger, but the impression had been made: Daniel had seen the dark red liquid flow freely and fall onto the white carpet the doctor always kept neat and clean. A mesmerizing sight, to say the least.

Another time Daniel saw blood was at school. Henry Bedloe was an expert on making some people cry and some others bleed; Daniel was one of those others. More often than not, Henry beat him up, sometimes with a reason and sometimes without. Daniel ended up lying wounded on the ground, his lip bleeding from the hits, his clothes dishevelled from being tossed around like a ragdoll and his hands grazed from falling onto them. He usually had a chance to look at himself in the mirror of the doctor's office. The sight was always disgusting. Daniel was messed up, not to mention dirty, but that wasn't what unsettled him. Some of his wounds were still bleeding, but his own blood lacked charm or beauty.

Daniel thought it wasn't worth spilling.

One evening, when Dr. Tate had come by to check on Daniel's state after catching a light fever, the question came.

"Doctor, what does it mean to bleed?"

Dr. Tate was clearly surprised. Daniel kept his eyes on the physician, impatiently waiting for an answer.

"It means that the person who is bleeding is hurt, my boy."

"Is it good to bleed?"

"Most of the time, it isn't. It's not a pretty sight, either."

"Then why do some people make others bleed? Like I'm always hit at school by Henry. I always bleed and if you say that's a bad thing, then why does he do it? Why does he want to see me bleeding?"

Dr. Tate frowned in thought, then said, "Daniel, tell me something: do you bleed a lot when you're hit?"

Daniel shook his head. "No, I don't. Why?"

"Because some people make others bleed to see how strong they really are. It's a good thing that you don't bleed much: that means you're strong. You're strong enough to face up to Henry." Dr. Tate smiled. "Have in mind that the two of us, you and I, don't get along for nothing. I know what you're going through, Dan, but I can only give you advice and encouragement."

The prospect of being stronger than Henry drastically cheered up Daniel. Thanks to the good doctor, Daniel was able to stand his ground against Henry. He showed Henry how strong he was and how he was not afraid of the young bully. That was until Henry mentioned Hazel.

Daniel couldn't help himself. That time, _he_ was the one to make Henry bleed, _he _was the one who saw how strong Henry really was. Daniel felt a mix of disappointment and excitement when, after punching Henry in the nose, he saw blood flowing like water out of a fountain. Indeed, Daniel was stronger than Henry; and the blood, as it spread through the snow, a mesmerizing sight.

But Daniel never told Dr. Tate of his aggression against Henry. Despite not knowing what the doctor would say, Daniel had the constant feeling it wouldn't be good.

It's been almost twenty years since that.

The prisoners of Brennenburg, every time they are cut up, apparently make no attempts to bleed less; it's quite the spectacle. Anger takes hold of Daniel sometimes and he taunts them, yells at them and challenges them to become stronger than him. Their blood comes out with nothing to stem its flow; those people can't control it. They can't help being weaker than him.

And that's why Daniel revels in making them bleed, because the sight of crimson splashing against white has never been so beautiful.

* * *

_A/N: Like I said, an M-rated thing of sorts; not that the game had its shortage of M-rated moments, XD. Again, it's not too long (my comebacks tend to be this short while I get back into the Amnesia groove). _

_Reviews are appreciated!^^  
_


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